Still Searching for People of Unimpeachable Honesty

A few posts ago I mentioned that my landlord and landlady were people of unimpeachable honesty. I retract those words, and also retract some of the scorn I reserved for Charlemagne, who had agreed to live in my flat for two months during my vacation and then pulled out of the deal unannounced, which could have resulted in me being left homeless without notice.
What happened instead is that my 2-room apartment was completely vacant when I returned. How did it turn out that way? Charlemagne was planning on living in that flat alone, which would have been fair considering I paid half the rent, and he agreed to pay the other half. Instead, the landlord and landlady decided to try to get more cash out of the situation by inviting a second person to live in the flat, i.e., they wanted to collect money from three people instead of two.
They invited a Canadian to live there, who may or not have been the omni-sexual whoremonger who had been interested in my spare several months before. Charlemagne, upon learning that he was going to be living with a stranger, decided not to move in. And then the Canadian evaporated a well, leaving the landlord and landlady with almost no money for that month.
They never told me that. And because they lost the extra money, they want me to pay my rent tomorrow instead of on the 11th, their way of getting 8 days rent back. I could fight them over this, but I am tired of fighting people over shit like this.
Why do I have this obsession with finding people of unimpeachable honesty? Because they are so rare. I want to find one and then be able to say, -I had mostly bad experiences every time money or living arrangements were involved, but you know, I met this one person, and he shattered all the myths. He never lied to me once. And so I can say that it's not all bad over there-. But so far it just isn't so. Because it just doesn't pay to be honest here.

In any case I have a new roommate moving in, and now that I think about who I have taken I am more than a bit worried. The guy is a bit of a motormouth, but what I am really worried about is that he loves listening to blaring country music, especially on Sunday afternoons. Yesterday was Sunday, and I really just treasured the silence and the fact that for once I could sleep all day and do exactly NOTHING in complete silence. If that kind of day disappears from my life, things will get really unpleasant for me very soon. When I am here in Moscow, I often complain about Russian pop music, which generally is pretty toxic, but then I return home and find myself waiting in line at Wal-Mart or the post office, and listening to country. In those moments I think to myself: give me my Russian pop back.